


A Fantasy of Sin

by Shay_Moonsilk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, Feeding Kink, Good Omens Lockdown, M/M, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Sub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Subspace, Wings, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/pseuds/Shay_Moonsilk
Summary: Aziraphale had a pesky problem with burglars when he just wanted to eat his cake in peace. But what if he had wanted to be interrupted?What if he wanted a certain demon to come to his shop and ravish him?It was the Bastille all over again - Aziraphale was more then capable of resisting arrest, of keeping out of trouble. But he went through the effort because he wanted to Make The Effort for Crowley. And it's time Crowley returned that favor, and indulged in his angel's fantasy.Crowley is a demon of temptation, after all.And he wants to watch Aziraphale eat cake.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 307





	A Fantasy of Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SparkleInTheStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleInTheStars/gifts).



> Happy Belated Birthday Sparkle!! I'm so sorry this isn't what we had talked about, but I hope this is an adequate birthday gift that's as lovely as you!

In all honesty, Crowley really had meant to set his alarm and sleep for months. There were only so many times he could re-watch Golden Girls before a demon had to draw the line. So with a furious intent, he began fiddling with his phone, instructing it with a severe hiss that it was not to disturb him until July at the _earliest_. 

For the sheer drama of it all, he took one last walk about his flat scowling at the aloof art, shaking plants, and sleek furniture. Nothing in it had been designed for comfort. It had never meant to be a place for him to exist in all hours of the day. He only ever used this space to sleep, yell at his plants, ponder the meaning of the universe. The typical stuff. No, when he wanted to be _in_ a space, to really dig _in_ and _nest_ , that had always been a certain bookshop owned by a certain fussy principality. 

Only… that principality didn't want to see him, did he? 

The rub of it all was that he had offered! Had spelled it out, clear as day! And quite obviously too. Never had he put it so plainly: _"I could watch you eat cake_ ." He may as well have screamed: _"Watching you eat has been one of my fetishes for the last two thousand years, ever since I watched you deep-throat an oyster."_

But Aziraphale, oh, Aziraphale. So obsessed with setting an example. Following the rules. Not even a failed Armageddon could shake that nasty little habit. Crowley could picture him now, surrounded by all his cakes, and pastries, and breads, and probably cookies as well. Just eating them without any audience to properly appreciate him, or at least get proper wanking fodder. All that work Crowley had put in over the centuries, to really tempt and indulge Aziraphale into eating sweets until his angel was full-to-bursting, and he couldn't even be there to reap the one reward this pandemic hath wrought. 

And the worst part was that _others_ got to benefit from all his hard work! Looters, in his angel's bookstore, and Aziraphale hadn't even smited them!

Smited? Smote? Smoted? 

Whatever, didn't matter. 

Crowley was in a full sort of pace now, too worked up to properly sleep. He could just picture it in his mind's eye, using that imagination he was so adept with. 

Aziraphale, putting the finishing touches of frosting on an angel food cake, which was most likely cannibalism for him. Settling into this precious armchair, with his little white-winged angel mug that Crowley had bought him for a Valentines Day years ago. The mug would have cocoa in it, obviously, Crowley knew his Aziraphale. Then the angel would take a moment, to admire the cake, admire the way the light shone through the window to illuminate his books that all had the right amount of dust on them to look quaint. He would take a moment to inhale the scent of his books, his cake, his cocoa, and let the moment settle. 

Crowley was half-hard just imagining it. 

Then he would be interrupted by tumbling in the back. Sounds of items none too gently hitting the floor. Mumbled grunting, pushing, shoving. Aziraphale would let out a small huff. Customers? Ignoring the ‘closed’ sign? This wouldn’t do. He would rise, setting the cake next to the cooling cocoa, stepping with a cautious intent to see who was coming to his shop. Realizing that he wasn’t alone. But who could be there? Hope would flare in his breast - could it be-

Crowley stopped dead, halting his fantasy. Aziraphale had caught people lingering in his shop. If his angel really didn’t want to see anyone there, he had ways of getting rid of people. There were alarms, and strategically placed sprinklers all aimed to pesky customers. His little angel was a right bastard, it was his hottest trait after his arse. 

If Aziraphale had taken the time to seek out the intruders….

If the first thing Aziraphale had asked him about was if he was going out and causing wiles in the public… 

Oh, he was a blessed _idiot_ , he was. It was the Bastille all over again. Missing the elephant in the room, or rather, the chained up angel, to set him free when what Aziraphale had really wanted was to get up to some naughty times in bondage. 

So… he had a little fantasy? A desire to be preyed upon and ravished in his bookshop? 

Well… Crowley could certainly indulge a temptation. 

It was, afterall, as Aziraphale oh-so-not-subtly pointed out, his _job_.

\-----

Well that call had gone disastrously. With a twinge of regret, Aziraphale set his phone down on the receiver with a despondent click. To really set the point home, he gave a pointed sigh that was equal parts wistful and wanting. Yet another hint, another desire, ignored. Perhaps he was pushing for too much too soon, much like the Bastille. Mayhaps they weren’t at the ravishing, take-me-at-your-leisure stage in the relationship. 

Aziraphale busied himself with putting the finishing touches on his latest cake, a Devil’s Food. Too on the nose? Probably. But he wanted chocolate. With a butter knife, he carefully spread over the last of the frosting, and took a step back to admire the finished product. Not to take too much pride, but it was a lovely looking cake. He really was getting better at this. Who knew baking could be so delightful? 

Cutting a generous slice, Aziraphale padded to his favorite armchair. Last time, the sun had shone so beautifully, illuminating his books, some of which had a tasteful layer of dust, the bookshelves, his mug that was still steaming, filled with cocoa. It had been such a lovely picture. Today, however, it was cloudy outside. It may rain soon. How very foreboding. 

He let a little hum, preparing his ford with a decent-sized bit. Aziraphale closed his eyes in anticipation of tasting the morsel he had made, when he heard a noise. 

For a moment, he paused, tuning his ears. Maybe it was just his overactive nervous imagination. Of all the angels in Heaven, he had the most powerful imagination that usually translated into anxiety. Maybe it was just his subconscious manifesting the fantasy he had spent all too many a night the last month daydreaming of. After hearing nothing for a minute, he turned his attention back to his fork. 

As he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyes fluttered closed again in anticipation of the pleasure of the chocolate on his tongue. But as he set to close his lips around the fork, there it was. The noise! 

Aziraphale pouted, letting out a huff that was now all parts frustrated. Not again. Bad enough that it wasn’t his demon the first time, and he’d been forced to part with his cakes to those hooligans. Now they were back for more? Did his talking-tos mean nothing anymore? 

(They did. The would-be burglars, upon receiving their lecture from Aziraphale, made sure to set their efforts on philanthropy and assisting the needy and hungry.) 

The angel rose, squaring his shoulders resolutely. If it was the same would-be burglars, there would be no cake for them, not at all! 

But then Aziraphale heard a low hiss, one that made him stop in his tracks. 

_“Angel…”_

He knew that voice. His heart started to race, and a warmth spread all over. Carefully, he schooled his face into a stern scowl, but a smile threatened to break out on his face. But he had to stay in character, of course. This was a fantasy he had entertained since he opened his bookshop in the nineteenth century. 

“Hello?” Aziraphale called out, “Who’s there?”

There wasn’t an answer, not at first. But there was another low _hiss,_ and the sound of something gliding and moving just outside his vision. 

Then, Aziraphale heard another low hiss. 

“My little angel… all alone in your little nest… no one here to protect you now…”

Aziraphale’s insides fluttered with delight. He bit his lower lip to try and hide the smile that threatened to break across his face. Steeling himself, Aziraphale called out, “Show yourself, demon!” 

“Demon, am I? Are you ready to see a true demon _sss_ weetheart?” 

At that moment, Crowley emerged from the shadows, and Aziraphale couldn’t help the gasp that overcame him. Tall and resplendent, Crowley stepped out. His wings were out, and his eyes managed to glow in the darkness. Aziraphale felt a rush of heat and arousal course through him. 

It was _Crowley_. His demon came for him. 

“Crowley-” Aziraphale whispered, but Crowley suddenly stepped forward, reaching out to grasp Aziraphale’s shoulders. The angel reflexively leaned into the embrace, and Crowley pressed him against the bookshelf. His back hit the end of the shelf with a soft yet definite thud, but his head didn’t knock back. 

“Staying here, in your shop like thisss,” Crowley hissed, “Practically an invitation, wouldn’t you say, darling?” 

A whimper left Aziraphale’s throat. “Whatever do you plan on doing to me - you - you - wily serpent?” 

Crowley hissed, leaning in to kiss his neck. His tongue flicked out, teasing at his ear, making Aziraphale gasp. When he spoke, his voice was still the same hiss, but with an edge to it that Aziraphale had never registered before in their relationship. “Whatever I _like_.” 

It was everything he had ever wanted. Aziraphale could cry out with joy, and indeed, he was crying out, as Crowley leaned in to suck a bruise to the sensitive spot on his neck. Crowley’s hands traced down to his thighs, but along the way they groped and caressed his sides and stomach - Crowley adored his softness, always had. And because Aziraphale had taken up baking, there was more of a roll and definition that hadn’t been there before. 

Any worry about that was quickly dashed when Aziraphale could hear an appreciative groan in his ear. The angel could no longer hide his smile. 

Crowley’s hands finally reached their goal, grasping and pawing at his thighs. Before he could realize what was happening, Aziraphale found himself being lifted off the floor, braced only by his demonic lover. An uncharacteristically unangelic squeak escaped him, and Aziraphale reflexively grabbed at Crowley for fear of falling to the floor. The demon tutted at him. 

“I would never drop you,” Crowley vowed, taking a step backwards. Aziraphale’s stomach lurched in a way that had nothing to do with the banana bread he had eaten for breakfast that day. “A treat like you is meant to be sssavored.” 

To hide the blush that began to break out, Aziraphale ducked his head to hide in Crowley’s neck. He could feel them moving, and soon enough he was being deposited on the couch in the back part of the shop. 

How long had Aziraphale dreamed of them playing out a scene, just like this, on this very couch? All the times that he and Crowley would drink their stress away, commiserate on the lack of appreciation they received at their dead-end jobs, rant about the world and their place in it? How many times Crowley would sleep off the drink, while Aziraphale read, all the while the angel dreaming of the way his paramour would lean across the distance between them and have his way? At the realization that his fantasy was becoming a reality, Aziraphale couldn’t help but tremble in anticipation. 

Crowley leaned back, shrugging off his jacket. Without breaking eye contact, he loosened and removed his tie, pulled his shirt off over his body, and shimmied out of his pants in a way that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but it was the hottest thing Aziraphale had ever seen. 

“Ssstill dressed?” He growled, and Aziraphale let out a whimper at the low baritone. The voice on his serpent! 

By a miracle, he found his voice. “W-well, if I am to be your, your prize, then wouldn’t you want the honor of undressing me yourself?” 

It had been the right thing to say. Crowley’s eyes glinted with delight, and that same glow of desire made his eyes nearly glow. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you my pet?” 

Aziraphale nodded before he could stop himself. 

Crowley gave a saunter over to him, placing one finger in the center of Aziraphale’s chest and pressing down. The angel went, trying to reign his breathing under control. Crowley leaned down to kiss him - their first kiss since they had separated a month and a half ago. Aziraphale reached up to wrap his arms around his neck, but Crowley caught his hands and made a disapproving noise. 

“Good little angels will keep their hands here,” He commanded, pressing Aziraphale’s wrists above his head. “Are you my good angel?” 

Too overcome to speak, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley pressed a bruising kiss to his collarbone, and his hands began unbuttoning his shirt. His mouth followed, placing a kiss to each bit of new skin revealed to him. There was a definite groan of appreciation when he reached Aziraphale’s stomach, admiring the added softness that he had acquired. 

“Bless,” Crowley swore, “I’m a lucky bloody demon.” He allowed Aziraphale to move his arms, in order to take the shirt off the rest of the way. “What I want now,” He ordered, “Is for you to let your wings out.” 

Aziraphale shivered, but did as his lover said. With a rush and burst of white, his wings manifested, framing him against the couch. Crowley grinned, reached out to carass the feathers under him. As his hands brushed against the plumage, Aziraphale gasped and arched his back, moaning loudly. The wing shuddered under his hand. 

“Perfect, you’re perfect for me,” Crowley praised, “A little treat all for me and me alone.” 

“Yours,” Aziraphale agreed, and his wing fluttered the more Crowley ruffled it. When he withdrew his hand, the whimper of distress Aziraphale made caused his grin to widen. 

“Shh,” He mock-soothed, “I have you, you know I’ll never leave you wanting, my angel.” 

Crowley made quick work of sliding his pants off, and encouraged Aziraphale to scoot back so he could hike a leg over his shoulder. A snap lubricated his fingers, and he pressed in slowly. 

As he pressed the first finger in, Aziraphale let out a sigh, and arched his back to lean into the sensation. Crowley took in his rapturous expression, trying not to let his own awe overwhelm him. No one felt pleasure or sensation the way Aziraphale did, and no one shone as beautifully as him. Even now, as his face was alight with ecstasy, Crowley relished the fact that this beautiful body underneath was all his to cherish and have. And oh did Crowley want to have. 

He added another finger, and curled them until Aziraphale was crying out in sweet torture. “Please,” His angel begged, “Please please oh, oh, Crowley more-”

And how could he say no? It was impossible for him to say no to Aziraphale, it always was. Crowley leaned down to kiss him, adding a third finger as he did so. Aziraphale whimpered, his arms shaking with the effort to listen to Crowley and keep them where he was ordered to. 

Crowley thrusted with his fingers, using his other hand to grab at Aziraphale’s other leg and wrap that around his waist as well, and then moved his hand to ruffle through his feathers once more. Aziraphale broke their kiss to cry out, now inchorent with need and begging for his cock. 

“Please, please,” Aziraphale begged brokenly, and Crowley kissed away the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes, “I need you, please, please-”

“Shh, I have you,” Crowley promised, removing his fingers. Aziraphale let out a sob at the loss, but then gasped as Crowley thrust inside with his cock. The angel’s shoulders relaxed, and Aziraphale arched into the sensation of Crowley sliding into him. 

“There we are,” Crowley continued, undulating his hips into the angel below him. “See, I always have you.” 

Aziraphale’s reply was lost to a mewl as Crowley began to set a steady pace, slowly building up to a speed that he knew Aziraphale would want. His hands alternated between keeping a hold on his hip to caressing his feathers. Crowley’s wings, which had provided a protective shield this whole time, dropped to gently brush against his. At that sensation, they both moaned, having the new friction to add to their pleasure. 

They soared on this new high together, Aziraphale moving his hips to add to the thrust of Crowley’s hips, and Crowley, making sure to grasp Aziraphale’s hardness as he refused to let up. His face leaned down to place bruising kisses and bites to whatever skin he could reach - for Aziraphale got to enjoy sweet treats, so why not him? And there was no sweeter treat then his angel. 

Even now, Aziraphale was crying out, his voice taking on a pitch that let Crowley know that he was close. And of course he was as well, really, he was ready to go the moment he got to bite at his stomach earlier. Nothing did it for him like Aziraphale’s body. Crowley sped up his thrusting, and moved to deliberately fondle at the primary feathers closest to his shoulders, and that did it. 

With a loud cry, Aziraphale arched his back and came, shuddering through an orgasm that had his eyes rolling into the back of his head. The sensation along his cock had him coming, but Crowley refused to stop thrusting until he felt himself go limp and Aziraphale’s gasps turned to oversensitive whimpers. Slowly, he pulled out of his lover, but didn’t move right away. Just took a moment to admire the handiwork of his disheveled angel below him. 

“That what you wanted?” He asked, and Aziraphale gave him a beaming smile. 

“It was perfect, my dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley gave a half-snort, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

“Just so you know, ‘m staying here as long as this goes on,” Crowley said, and the satisfied smile Aziraphale had in response to that did something really nice to his ego. He gave one more peck to his head, and got up, giving a snap to get rid of the spots that were beginning to dry. Crowley ignored the pout Aziraphale was giving the back of his head as he went back to the couch, where he had found his angel in the first place. 

From where he was, Aziraphale wiggled a bit, trying to pull some of the pillows and blankets from the side of the couch. But his arms felt like limp noodles indeed, and he wasn’t very successful. Thankfully, Crowley came back, and was able to pull several pillows and blankets around them, to arrange in a nest of sorts for the two of them. 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his arms, and they enjoyed the feeling of getting to hold each other for the first time in months. 

“Brought this over,” Crowley said, bringing the plate with the devil’s food cake on top. Aziraphale gave a soft giggle, as Crowley raised the fork to his lips. Aziraphale closed his mouth around, chewing with a gentle moan at the flavor. Crowley leaned over to kiss his temple. 

“After this, I’ll groom your wings,” The demon promised, but Aziraphale was hardly paying attention. His mind was completely at peace, and he was floating as high as the clouds. Aziraphale had his demon, his cake, and the most perfect nest in SoHo. 

It was a perfect afternoon. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoyed!


End file.
